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Soraya stared after him too, hoping for the first time in her life that a Dar’rak had survived all these years of war, if only so she could bury a knuckle-duster in his face.

When they’d all disappeared, Soraya knelt beside Ikarus, throat thickening as she took in the broken woman in his arms.

Logically, Soraya knew that it was likely Serone’s Ethereal blood, more durable than any other species of creature down here, that kept her breathing, but looking at her, watching what was left of her stare up into her son’s face, a small smile on her bloodless lips despite all that had been done to her, she couldn’t quiet the voice in her head whispering that it was something else, something older than the Vordellians or Dar’rak and every star on the other side of the Iron Sky.

Pure love, burning brighter than any suns ever could, shone in what was left of Serone’s face.

“Shhh, it’s all right.” Fingers trembling, she reached a bony hand up to wipe his tears away. “Do not c-cry … It is … my time.”

“No,” Ikarus was saying, sobbing. “Don’t say that. I-I … I can fix this!” He lifted his head, and Soraya was powerless against the onslaught of pain that lanced against her chest as she beheld his tiny face, the agony there. “We’ll get a healer here and—”

“It is … too late for … that.” Serone’s fingers slid to his jaw. She tried to turn his face toward her but he resisted, his eyes tightly squeezed closed as though someone was peeling his skin off layer by layer. “Let us … not waste … what time … I have left …. Look … at me.”

He shook his head, and when a dry cough wracked Serone’s body, he flinched as though he felt it himself.

“Ikarus … darling … Let me look at you … one last time,” she choked out. Her voice was so hoarse. It wouldn’t be long now. “Please.”

That last word seemed to break something in him. The strangled sob he’d been so desperately trying to keep locked away sprang free, and when Serone tugged at his face again, he didn’t resist. Let her guide his chin until he was staring down at her. Let her see the pure devastation on his face.

Serone coughed, her chest rattling each time she tried to take a breath, but she kept smiling, kept staring up at her son, no doubt committing every line of his face to memory ready for when she crossed over, as though that was the only thing she wanted to take with her.

“I love you,” she managed to say just before another tremor wracked her body. When it stopped, there was a bead of blood coming out of her nose too. “You are going … to do great things. Y-you are going … to lead our people … out of this place … be the reason … no more … are trapped here …. I’ve … seen it …. And I would do it all again, every second of it … for you, my boy.”

A muffled sob came from the corner of the room, where three children were crammed into a hidden doorway: two boys, one with deep brown skin and golden eyes that glowed like the heart of a blacksmith’s kiln, the other with short black curls, and a little fairy with the most beautiful pink-and-gold hair Soraya had ever seen. All three of them were sobbing silently.

Another child stood in front of them, her four delicate dragonfly-like wings stretched out like a shield. She was taller than the other children, with large eyes the color of the deepest ocean and long hair that was so dark a blue it was almost black.

Varena. The lost sister.

When she stepped forward, Malakai tried to catch her wrist, his honey-colored eyes lined with silver, but little Emelda pulled him back, her grip on Golla’s neck in her other arm so tight it was a miracle his head didn’t pop off.

Varena knelt beside Ikarus. She didn’t say anything, simply draped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into her. She held him as Serone took her last breath. Wrapped her beautiful dark blue wings around him like a cocoon as Ikarus let out a guttural scream.

Varena stayed for it all. The screams. The sobs. Held him while his mother’s blood seeped into the long skirts of her dress and the edge of one of her wings.

“Never again.” She kissed the top of his head. “It’s up to us now. We will never let this happen again. Me and you, we’re going to keep the others safe. Promise me.”

Ikarus didn’t stop sobbing, but his head moved in a slow nod.

When the bathroom walls reappeared, all Soraya could do was stare at Ikarus.

“Do you understand now?” His voice was raw and hoarse. “My mother was his most trusted seer. She’d advised him since she was a child! Everything she’d ever told him had come true, right to the exact minute Aleena took her last breath and the cracks appeared. Yet she made one mistake.” He held up a finger, rage making the gold in his eye pulse. “She had one wrong fucking vision—about me—and he killed her just like that. I serve him because he’ll execute us if I don’t, and that’s if the Bane doesn’t do it for him first. It’s already taken my father, now it’s working its way through Emelda—who knows how long she has left before it turns her to stone. We lost Varena too, and I can’t—” He swallowed, jaw tight. “I serve him because we’re all dying down here, and that’s not going to change unless we reunite the Arch and use it so we can breathe your air. Emelda. Malakai. Aeris. Golla. Serone. They’re all I have left. And I will not lose anyone else, human. I refuse.”

He grabbed her hands and wrapped them around his throat, forcing her fingers to press down so she was practically strangling him. “So go on. Keep saying that you’re going to kill me when you eventually escape—because I promise you, as long as they still breathe, as long as I still have them to protect, you will never kill me. I will always be there, matching you every step of the way—no matter what. I will gladly be the villain in your and everyone else’s stories if it means they’re safe.”

No matter this thing between us. He didn’t say it, but it hung there, swinging between them like a noose that could take either one of them if they got too close.

Soraya was frozen. Ikarus was right here. She had her hands wrapped around his throat—it would be so easy to kill him right now, if she just contracted a few muscles he’d be dead.

She should.

She couldn’t, though.

Because it wasn’t the Demon she was staring at. Wasn’t the ruthless killer who’d butchered thousands and burned entire towns without an ounce of remorse.

It was Ikarus. The little boy who’d hesitated on the deck on Invasion Day when he could’ve killed her and her entire family with a swipe of his hand. The man who’d sacrificed everything, had sold his soul again and again to keep the ones he loved safe. And she couldn’t do that to him. Wouldn’t.

Soraya had done unspeakable things to protect her family too. She’d killed and lied. Had carved so many pieces of herself away in favor of a weapon she could wield, sometimes she was surprised when she looked down and saw hands at the end of her wrists instead of a gun or bloodied blade.